Before the Gospel
by TiredGreenEyes
Summary: because before their lives were written down, they were actually just normal guys who had no idea what they were getting into. Starting with John the baptist!
1. Chapter 1

Hi this is Fe- not Iron, but Faith, as in spanish. :)

Many of you read my story "Whatever happens" and I was overwhelmed by your support and kindness. Someone asked if I was ever doing any more biblical stories, and this is the answer.

Recently God has been after me about what I look at while I am online. For example, I love post secret, but it'sa little over the top sometimes, not something I'd want my little sisters to ever look at... so this is an escape (laugh) sort of.

Anyway, here is a story about John. May or may not be a chapter 2

* * *

Luke begins his story of the extraordinary Christ by introducing some very ordinary people. They live in a small, second-rate country occupied by imperial Rome. It is around 4 B.C. For over 400 years their nation, Israel, has heard no prophetic voice from God.

Has God forgotten his chosen people? Has he left them to be the perennial pawns of aggressive neighbors? Is he going back on his many promises to send his Messiah to save them?

* * *

Prologue

To many, the idea that God had appeared again was simply a rumor- easily dismissed. To the even fewer who were aware of the nature of the angelic visit, were other doubters. After four hundred years of waiting, four hundred years of silence, were they honestly supposed to believe that God had sent his archangel Gabriel to tell an old man that he was going to be a father? What importance was a baby at a time when they needed a triumphant King, a Messiah, to defeat the Romans and save them from oppression?

And yet… there was something strange about that whole situation. Elizabeth was much too old to have a child and she had already been pronounced barren by all the town's best physicians. So why was it that she appeared to the town, bright and beaming, carrying an infant boy in her arms? Why was it that the moment that the boy was given the name 'John,' his father was suddenly able to talk and immediately began spouting poetry and praises, like a mad man? Something was very strange about the whole thing. It was something the elder of the village still liked to bring up and gnaw on when there wasn't anything better to talk about.

There was no denying that John was a special child… a _gifted_ child… and again… a _strange_ child. Yes, there was something strange about him as well… but it was a pleasant sensation more than anything; one that brought the elders and teacher of the village supreme joy. After the death of Zechariah, every rabbi in the village had taken him under their wing. Some did it out of duty and because they felt an obligation from God. Some reached out their hands because of the child's bright and inquisitive nature- thinking that they themselves could elevate his potential.

Fewer still did it because they loved him.

But despite anyone's hopes of grandeur, John showed no real interest in becoming a priest like his father had been. He was obviously not anyone's trophy, for when he turned down the offer of a rabbi to follow him the rabbi's eyes bulged and he turned so red it was a wonder he didn't have a stroke. Many people looked upon John with a wary sort of distrust after that. When a rabbi asked you to follow him you never said no- it was an honor, a supreme honor. To not want it was pure madness. Thus, they decided that John must be mad.

He didn't seem to care much.

He had always been slightly different from other children. Not different in the sense that he was pushed and made fun of- like any boy he still managed to get into mischief now and then. But he was set apart from them. A teacher only had to say a scripture once and he would remember it exactly. Unlike other boys his age who couldn't sit still or had trouble being quiet, he possessed a strange ability to keep still and silent for long periods of time. His fellow students were usually torn between being violently jealous or in awe of him. Most respected him, for while he was not outgoing he was friendly enough when one initiated the conversation.

The days of childhood were long over. So were the days after it. The rabbis and teachers had stopped asking him to join them, the fathers had stopped suggesting that their daughter would be a good match for him and most of the boys he had grown up with were now men with sons of their own. Even after all the years that had passed, John remained the same. He worked each day except the Sabbath, and showed devoted care towards his aging mother. Sometimes he would review the scriptures again and many times he would be seen looking pensively into the distance beyond their town, as if waiting for a signal, or some sort of sign.

It never occurred to anyone that he had a future and a destiny beyond the limits of the imagination- or that God was going to use him in such an awesome way that he would never be forgotten, even thousands of years later. It never occurred to anyone… because things like that simply do not happen to ordinary people.

At least, they don't… _usually_.

* * *

1.

One of the women of the town came out of the house, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, holding a clay pot of water to her chest. She carefully sidestepped the group of men, waiting outside the house and went to the edge of the clearing where she threw the dirty water onto the ground. She quickly darted down the path, to the well. After pulling another bucket of water up and refilling the jar she turned back to the house, coming slowly in her attempt to not spill. Again, Orprah slipped by the little waiting party and paused at the door. She looked back, feeling the eyes of the priests and other villagers on her back.

"Elizabeth doesn't have much time left," she said quietly. "If you'd like to say goodbye, you should come now."

No one moved. Orprah carefully took the pot off her shoulder and entered the house again, letting the cloth cover the door behind her.

The house was growing darker, it was later in the day but not quite late enough to bring down the oil lamps. Not even waiting for her eyes to adjust, she stepped across the room purposefully, to the corner of the room where a man crouched against the bed mat of his mother.

"I asked them to come in," Orprah said, carefully placing the jug on the floor as she sat down beside the woman's head. "But I don't think anyone is coming."

John looked over at her, an indiscernible look on his face. "It's alright. I really didn't expect them to take the chance."

A crinkly smile crossed the face of their patient. "I'm surely committing a grave sin, dying so close to the Sabbath like this…" she laughed which quickly turned into a cough. John reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing it in his own.

Elizabeth's words had been spoken lightly enough, but there was a dark truth underlying them. The priests had come, perhaps out of obligation for her husband who was once one of them, but they believed that touching a dead body would make them unclean. With the Sabbath only an hour away, their concern for righteousness was a good excuse for being uncompassionate.

Carefully she looked up at her son's face, seeing past the stony expression. "Forgive them John… their ways will be shown to them soon enough."

He looked at her. The unspoken message was quite clear and he smiled at her, genuinely as he kissed her hand gently. Orprah, who had missed the communication carefully took a cloth and dipped it in the water. Ringing it out she placed it on Elizabeth's brow.

"Don't bother with that," John said softly. "She's already gone."

The girl jumped slightly in surprise. Elizabeth's eyes were closed, her chest had stopped it's heaving. So immediate- so quick! Orprah couldn't repress a soft cry that came from her lips as she leaned down and kissed the woman who had shown her such kindness.

John gently touched her shoulder.

"Don't cry," he said, clearing his voice, as though suddenly hoarse. "She wouldn't want us to show too much remorse."

Orprah nodded, trying to smile through her tears. The death was not a sudden one, it had been impending for almost a year now. However the actual realization she was gone was horrible- like a gaping hole had suddenly swallowed part of her heart.

A scuffle from outdoors made them both look up. A short look of indignation passed over John's features again before disappearing. With a quiet sigh he stood up and walked to the door. He reached for the cloth covering and slowly allowed his hand to drop. His shoulders heaved slightly for a moment then straightened again. He turned to her.

"I must leave. We are both unclean for the Sabbath but it would not be proper for two unmarried people to spend the night under the same roof. I will tell them…" he trailed off, but his intentions were clear. For a moment his expression seemed very far away, as though he was listening to some inner signal. She felt obliged to call him back.

"John."

He startled a bit, then smiled. "Excuse me." His tone changed. "You will take care of the burial?"

"I will clean and dress her." Orprah confirmed. John nodded his approval.

"Good, she will be buried on the first day." He reached again to lift the door cloth and stopped. "Thank you Orprah. May God bless you."

The young girl looked up at him curiously, wondering why he said such formal parting words. "God bless you as well John."

The door was finally uncovered as he stepped out into the group of men. Right before it swung back into place, she saw them all take a physical step back to avoid contamination. Orprah looked down into the wise and gentle face of her friend.

"Oh Elizabeth," she whispered softly. "What is to become of him now?"

* * *

Reviews appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello!

This is a history update, so that everyone understands what's going on, and what will happen next! :) Thanks for reading!

2.

The people of Israel were slightly… backward. Well maybe that wasn't the right word for it. The real truth of the matter was that they wanted whatever God didn't want them to have. It was rather like a father trying to keep his child away from a fire. Israel would think, "_Oh what pretty colors! How interesting! I want to touch it!" _And God would warn them over and over again, "_Don't touch it! You'll regret it!"_

Only unlike the child who usually grows up and learns from his mistakes, Israel kept right on chugging down that path of destruction.

God said, "_You don't need a king. I'll be your King_,"

Israel said, "The Jews need an earthly king. You're not good enough."

And so the troubles began. How many kings had they suffered through now? There was Saul, who was mad, David- who for all his good qualities could not manage his own family to save his life- and Solomon… who nearly ruined everything with his many wives and concubines.

The list continued down the line. Once or twice a jewel among thorns would appear… like Josiah the boy king. Still, the majority of them were self seeking, power hungry fools.

Then came Herod.

Herod wasn't technically the King… he was technically more of a governor. Mostly he kept watch over the Jews and ruled over them while Rome attended their own business. Rome would come around every so often to collect taxes of course… or to take the animals or children of those who could not pay. Unfortunately there seemed to be a growing number of them due to the fact that Herod's taxes were fairly high as well.

The Romans thought it justified that Herod would issue such taxes. He was a genius to be sure, his architecture was beautiful, creative, and massive. He built the Jews a new temple of splendor that was unsurpassable.

Naturally, the Jews disliked him. It wasn't that they didn't enjoy the majesty of their temple, but rather that while in the construction of this temple Herod had also been building temples to Pagan gods, large amphitheaters and other projects they would rather not be built at all, much less with their own tax money!

And then there was the matter of his obvious and dangerous insanity. Out of fear of anyone but himself gaining power or overthrowing him, Herod killed his wife Mariamne, but also her grandfather, mother, brother and two sons. He even went on to kill another wife.

It was easy to see why the Jews detested him- and Rome who made them pay tribute to Caesar who believed himself a god. Yet at the same time they could do nothing. They barely dared to speak up about it, lest they be killed themselves. Their only hope- the Messiah!

The messiah! The prophets of old (whom they now cherished- having somehow forgotten that their ancestors had tried and often succeeded in killing these messengers) had said many things about the messiah's coming! Of course, the priests knew these things, but in light of current events they were inclined to skip over the prophecy about him being, 'the lowest of men' or 'born as an infant, lying in a manger.' They preferred the much more alluring prophecies.

"The Messiah will come riding on a white horse and slay our enemies!" The radicals would beam. The Jews would all comfort themselves with that fact. The messiah would slay the Romans! The Messiah would crush them, kill them, annihilate them for their sin and wickedness!

Somewhere up in heaven, God had smacked his palm to his forehead in agony at their foolishness. Somewhere down on earth, God was about to meet up with a cousin he hadn't seen in a long long time.


End file.
